Softly Calls the Serengeti (23 page)

Koske waited for his call in the courtyard outside the Kenyatta International Conference Centre. A large crowd was gathered in the car park and surrounding streets, hoping to hear news of the election. Inside, the Electoral Commission of Kenya was counting votes in the ground-floor auditorium.

Koske thought it ironic that in the neighbouring conference room, the Austrian judge was hearing matters to do with the so-called Rights of the Child. Koske had been concerned that he might be called to testify to the committee, but now that Omuga had been silenced, he felt at ease. Even if he were called to make a statement, he could do so with complete confidence that he could not be challenged.

His mobile phone rang. He pressed it hard against one ear and jammed a finger into his other ear. Still he had difficulty hearing above the noise.

‘What?' he asked. ‘I can hardly hear you. Too much noise.'

‘I said, how is it at KICC?'

Koske moved further away from those around him before replying. ‘Our people are doing their best, but everything is going bad here.'

‘What about the loading dock where they bring in the boxes? Are our people there?'

‘Yes. We know the ballots are going straight to the counting room. So there is nothing going on in the KICC. They must be doing their work at the polling stations.'

‘That's exactly what we see out there.'

‘And Langata, ah? The ODM people are saying the boxes haven't come in. The counting is going slowly, slowly. You know what this means?' Koske asked.

There was a delay at the other end of the line. ‘So Odinga could win the presidential election, but lose his own seat?'

‘Exactly. In which case, it is impossible for him to be president.'

Silence again, then, ‘I'll call the executive together immediately. You stay there and call me as soon as the Langata results are known. I hope your Kibera plans are in place. Maybe we need them sooner than we thought.'

 

Join us at kicc
. The text message, marked
Siafu
, meant it was a mobile broadcast to Joshua's football team and other Odinga supporters.

Joshua's thumbs flew deftly over the keypad:
Wot happening kicc
.

The reply, a few minutes later, came from his team-mate David.
Trouble. Raila result not in. Can u come.

No but go kicc. Fight strong.

 

Joshua walked into the drivers' dormitory while sending off another text message. His contacts in Kibera, many of whom had gone to the KICC, had kept him busy for hours with the facts, figures and rumours on the progress of counting. As far as the poll results were concerned, the reports from his many sources were mixed. The consensus appeared to be that the ODM was doing very well. The main concern was the situation regarding Odinga's own seat. Under the Kenyan constitution, a presidential candidate must stand for and win a parliamentary seat before becoming eligible for the presidency.

‘Oh-ho,' one of the Kikuyu drivers said. ‘Look at this boy now. Is he a reporter from KTN? Busy sending messages every time you see him. My, my.'

‘No,' said Maina. ‘He's just a spy for Raila Odinga.'

The other drivers, lounging on their bunks, chuckled.

Joshua had initially been very wary of Maina. He was fat and jovial and always keen to find a new way to tease the latest arrival. But Joshua had found his measure, and gave as good as he got. Maina was delighted at the sport.

‘
Haki ya mungu
, Maina,' Joshua said. ‘It's you! I thought a baby hippo had come from the lake and gone to sleep on your bed.'

The other drivers laughed.

‘Listen, my young skinny friend,' Maina said. ‘If you had a
mbolo
as big as mine, you'd need some muscle behind to give it a good pumping.' He lewdly simulated copulation with the vigorous thrusting of his hips.

‘Maybe muscle,' Joshua replied. ‘But a belly full of
ugali
is no help.'

‘What would you Luos know of
ugali
, ah? All you do is drop a string in the lake and hope that an unlucky fish will bump into it.'

‘Soon we won't worry about fishing. It's our turn to eat,
bwana
.
Kitu kidogo
, a little something. For the Luos this time.'

‘So you think your man will win this one, Luo boy?'

‘Even if the votes drop like rain, Kibaki cannot win. I guarantee.'

Maina laughed. ‘Listen to him. A guarantee from the Luo. What price is your guarantee worth?'

‘What do you mean, what is it worth?'

‘I mean, what do you wager that your man Odinga will win the election? No, that's too long to wait. Let's make it interesting. What do you wager that your man Odinga will be leading in the counting by tomorrow night?'

Joshua felt all eyes on him. Maina probably suspected that he had no money to wager and was calling his bluff. He couldn't back down.

‘Hmm…You want a bet that Odinga won't be leading on Saturday night…How much does Kenya Allover Tours charge for a morning game drive?' he asked.

Maina smirked. ‘For an exclusive, guided game drive by an expert like me? A thousand shillings.'

‘Then that is our bet. A thousand shillings that Raila Odinga will be winning the election tomorrow night.'

‘Okay. It's a thousand shillings.' He turned to his audience. ‘
Ati!
' he said, using the Kikuyu question word. ‘Am I crazy? Ah? What chance has he of paying me?' Turning back to Joshua, he said, ‘I don't think you have a chance to win, my friend, but if you do, you will be seeing one thousand shillings for the first time in your unlucky life.
Si ndiyo?
'

‘If I win…when I win…I don't want your thousand shillings.'

‘No? Then what are you saying?'

‘When I win, I want a special, personal game drive by you, Maina. And I want it for free.'

 

Koske's anger had been brewing for hours. Days. The vote count for Odinga's party had been swinging wildly. Everyone knew the votes were being rigged up country where the practicalities made scrutineering difficult. The answer was to keep public pressure and media attention on the situation, but he was having difficulty mobilising sufficient numbers of his Kibera foot soldiers to maintain the required awareness.

Again he cursed the unreliable Joshua Otieng. His first fatal mistake had been to defy Koske in the football trial he'd so generously arranged for his benefit. Then he had callously deserted him on the eve of the elections to go on some pointless safari. Koske's only consolation was his plan for revenge, but he put such thoughts aside. There was work to be done first.

At least he had the consolation that his other source of annoyance had been effectively disarmed. The UNICEF committee had become a nuisance. They were threatening to call him before their hearing to question him on the
whereabouts of some of the children from the orphanage. Apart from the children themselves, Omuga was the only person who knew enough details to cause him embarrassment. With his elimination, Koske could attend the UN's pretentious hearings with their
aforementioned this
and
thereby that
without fear of exposure.

His rage eased and he let his mind drift back to Otieng and his crimes. It was just too bad that the Limuru Leopards had called Koske rather than Joshua himself to ask the boy to attend another trial and to discuss a possible contract. Otieng would never hear of that now that he'd turned against Koske. But that loss would be the least of his worries once Koske got his hands on him.

 

‘This is Valley Radio, top of the Rift right here in Nakuru. It's 10 pm, and time to cross for our Friday night special report on Kenya's national elections presented by Valley Radio's own Jesse Chege. Over to you, Jesse.'

‘Thank you, James. Yesterday, Kenyans turned out in record numbers to select the people who will govern them for the next five years. Long queues formed at polling stations from dawn until the official closing time. Many were turned away without the chance to exercise their vote.

‘Most interest centres on the presidential race, where President Mwai Kibaki is fighting to avoid being the first post-independence leader to be voted out of office. After their landslide victory in 2002, Kibaki's Party of National Unity could have had every reason to be confident coming into this election, but Kibaki's election promise to clean up corruption has come to nothing. Voter dissatisfaction has been growing for some time and opinion polls midway through this year had Odinga's Orange Democratic Movement well in front of Kibaki and the PNU.

‘The present situation is that polling booths closed more than twenty-four hours ago, but the Electoral Commission of Kenya has released results from only sixty-nine of the country's two hundred and ten electorates, giving rise to claims from opposition supporters that Kibaki is trying to steal the election. Even so, these early results show Odinga to have fifty-eight per cent of those votes.

‘There are riots breaking out all over Nairobi—nowhere worse than in Kibera. The mood of the people is turning, and tensions are building.'

Joshua turned off the Land Rover's radio and sat in the dark. He should have been delighted with the news, but the election victory was not enough to dispel the two thoughts that troubled him.

The news report presented a picture of escalating violence in Kibera. He wondered how his friends and team-mates who were involved in the protests were faring. There would be trouble all through the settlements. People like his father and Kwazi, who were not involved in the struggle, were not immune from danger.

The problem that concerned him most was that somewhere in the chaos of Kibera and all its turmoil was Mayasa. He had dared to hope to live happily with her somewhere else, anywhere but Kibera. But that bubble had burst with her shock disclosure of her father's illness.

Her text message glowed in the dark:
I love you. Call me
.

He hadn't called her, but he hadn't stopped loving her.

A light rain was falling on Lake Nakuru at dawn; now, an hour later, it showed no sign of weakening. Kazlana knew there was no point going aloft. It would be impossible to find where her father had delivered the medical supplies until the cloud cleared.

She paced the short length of her veranda until Antonio, sipping the pungent black coffee he preferred, complained.

‘You invited me to join you for coffee, but I cannot stand you stalking about like a lion. It will not stop the rain.'

She puffed hard on her cigarette, tapping the ash into the garden. ‘I hate this waiting. It seems like I've been waiting a lifetime.'

‘Soon enough,
cara mia
.'

She continued to pace, then abruptly sat at the small table opposite him. ‘This friend of yours, Abukar…He says he knows nothing about Papa's plane…I don't believe him. Can he be trusted?'

‘What can I say? Faraj Khalid Abukar is a war lord at the end of a long line of warrior chiefs and war lords.'

‘But can you trust him?'

‘I know him quite well, Kazlana. He is a very charismatic man. His grandfather joined the British side to fight the Italians in World War II. The Allies conquered Italian Somalia in 1941, then won back British Somalia. But the Somalis never regained all their lost territory. Abukar's family—his whole clan—has been fighting to regain it for many, many years.' He paused to sip his coffee and consider the question again. ‘But you ask, can he be trusted? When you asked me to speak to him about your father's death, I asked myself the same question.' He shrugged. ‘I say he can, but we must remember that he and his people are
very determined. They may say one thing and do another. That is not to say they are not honourable people. They are. But they are also desperate people and they can take desperate actions, no? Perhaps the question should be: do we have a choice?' He smiled at her. ‘In which case, the answer is quite simple. No, we do not.'

 

Riley shifted his head and, through his sleepy vision, made out a window. Beyond it was a monkey in a tree. A yellow tree.

He was in his bungalow and he was safe. He'd slept well, although he still felt an unsettling embarrassment at the fuss he'd caused the day before. It didn't help that he'd underestimated the distance involved, nor that he was just dead unlucky that there were no game drives that morning. The fact remained that when Kazlana and her boyfriend had come along in their utility, the buffalo had been gaining ground and he'd been on his last legs. It had taken all his remaining strength to fling himself into the back of the ute beside Joshua. Thereafter he'd lain there like a stunned mullet.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up. His head spun, but he padded out onto the veranda and squinted into the brightness of the morning.

Charlotte was coming up the pathway, carrying a tray.

‘Good morning,' she said. ‘I've brought you some breakfast.'

‘Thank you. I'm starving.'

‘Are you okay today?'

He ran his fingers through his hair and stretched. ‘I am. Just needed a good night's sleep.' He pulled out a chair for her and she placed the tray on the table.

‘You've brought me breakfast,' he said, smiling. ‘That's something my mother would do.'

‘I'm sorry,' she said, sounding a little annoyed. ‘I imagine you're able to look after yourself.'

‘Charlie, I'm sorry. Thanks for everything you've done.'

She remained standing.

‘You're very kind. Please…let's sit down out here.'

‘Well…the morning's too beautiful to argue,' she said, taking a seat.

‘It is. Reminds me of mornings in Surfers Paradise.'

‘Is that where you met Melissa?'

‘Yes.'

‘How did you two meet?'

‘Melissa and I were destined to meet. As soon as I saw her I knew we would spend the rest of our lives together.'

He smiled self-consciously, embarrassed by allowing his emotions to show. Keeping his memories and emotions under a tight rein had been important over recent years.

‘I love stories about destiny. Tell me about it.'

‘Oh, well…' He cleared his throat, uncertain whether to proceed. ‘Are you sure you want to hear this?' he asked.

‘Please.'

‘Okay, well…I was batching in this cheap flat out the back of Surfers. It didn't have much of a kitchen, which didn't matter as I wasn't much of a cook. But it had only a small fridge so I was constantly down at the supermarket buying one of this and two of that. The day I met Melissa, I was supposed to be surfing off the heads at Burleigh with a mate, but the nor'wester had gone, and an onshore breeze made for an ugly chop, so we cancelled and I went to Woolies instead. She came in while I was wrestling with a trolley. You know how they get stuck together? I was getting kind of annoyed and then I saw her. Her hair was piled up on her head—it was about your colour, only a little longer. And she had on this sleeveless white blouse with crinkled bits around the shoulders.' He paused, a smile playing on his lips. ‘God, she was gorgeous.

‘Anyway, I caught her eye. She seemed to be staring right at me and I was taken by surprise. I mean, she was a vision…And she was just so obvious; staring at me like that. At least that's
what I thought. Later she told me she couldn't remember seeing me there at all, that she was probably preoccupied with other things. You see, she wasn't supposed to be there either. She was in a hurry, and only dropped in because of some changes to her plans that evening.

‘So there I am, thinking this beautiful creature's keen on me, so I kind of hover around her—discreetly, I thought—waiting to catch her eye again. I was still under the impression that she was staring at me, so I was full of confidence.'

‘I can't imagine you any other way,' Charlotte said with just a touch of sarcasm.

‘Confident? Are you kidding? I would never have said a word to her if she hadn't given me what I thought was that lingering look.'

‘Okay, I believe you,' she said, sounding unconvinced. ‘Go on with your story.'

‘I go to the fish counter and I know Melissa's just behind me, waiting her turn, so I make it clear to the attendant that I only want a small piece—just enough for one, I say, to let her know I'm single. Subtle, eh? After that, it became a bit of a game to manoeuvre my trolley so it was coincidentally beside hers. Buoyed up by my impression that she had this burning interest in me, I engaged her in small talk. I said something about cooking and perhaps we should swap recipes.'

‘You didn't!'

‘Sadly, I did. But it gets worse. I'm not sure how I managed this, but, to my shame, I told her I was an author.'

Charlotte began to chuckle. ‘Oh, Mark…'

‘I know. In fact I used the words “published author”.'

‘Oh, no!'

‘Why she allowed me to go on after that, I'll never understand.'

‘What then?'

‘I introduced myself. She said that Mark was a popular name in her family. Somehow I got the courage to ask if I could call her, and she gave me her mobile phone number.'

‘Nice going.'

‘I couldn't believe it. We went our own ways then, but I still couldn't believe my luck, so I called her before I left Woolies.'

‘Before you left the supermarket?'

He nodded. ‘As I said, I knew we'd be right for each other, and I didn't want to waste a moment.'

‘What made you so sure?'

‘I believe in fate. Some people call it synchronicity. Neither of us should have been there on that day. It was a one-in-a-million chance.'

‘It's a lovely story, Mark. You must have loved her a great deal.'

He looked down. ‘Melissa's the only woman I've ever loved. And then…well, as I told you the other day…'

‘I'm sorry,' she said. ‘I didn't mean to bring back bad memories for you.'

‘No, it's okay. Since I got it off my chest last time, I've been able to face things a lot better. It used to hide in the back of my head and hurt like hell when I let it out. I think I'm getting better at handling it now.'

‘That's a good sign, don't you think?'

He smiled at her. ‘Thank you. I think it is.'

‘Oh, look,' she said. ‘You have another visitor.' There was a slight edge to her voice.

Kazlana came strolling up the path.

‘You live!' she said. ‘I've come to make sure of your survival. And Charlotte…so nice to see you again. Have you been nursing your boyfriend back to good health?'

Charlotte blushed.

Riley jumped in. ‘Charlie and I are just, well…' He looked at her for help but she didn't seem to have anything to offer. ‘Friends,' he said. ‘And business partners, in a manner of speaking.'

Charlotte avoided his eyes and he had the feeling she wasn't pleased with his description.

‘Perfect!' said Kazlana. ‘I think it is good that a man and a woman can be friends.'

‘Where's Antonio?' he asked.

‘Poor darling, he had too much to drink last night, and now he's resting before going to see his brothers on the farm. I said I must check on how you're recovering, and I can see you are already better, so…that's excellent.'

‘I have some matters to attend to in my bungalow,' Charlotte said as she rose to her feet.

Kazlana turned to her. ‘Before you go, I'd like to invite you and Mark to join me on a joy flight over the valley as soon as this cloud clears. Would you like that?'

Charlotte seemed to barely give the invitation a thought. ‘No, thanks, Kazlana. You're very kind, but I…I have to do some work before we leave for Lake Victoria.' She gave them both a wave and a smile and strode off up the path to her bungalow.

Riley felt as though he'd said or done something to offend her. It wasn't the first time he'd felt that way around her. She seemed to be a woman with strong opinions on how one should conduct oneself.

Kazlana remained standing.

‘Oh, please. Won't you make yourself comfortable?' he said.

‘I always do,' she responded, flashing him a broad smile.

 

It wasn't until early afternoon that the low cloud finally burnt off, allowing Kazlana to deliver on her promise to take Riley for a flight over the Great Rift Valley. She climbed into the Land Rover beside him and they headed towards the small airfield.

‘I spoke to Charlie in the garden just now,' he said. ‘I tried to convince her it's a great way to see the national park, but she still said no.'

‘Pity.'

‘Yes. She says she has work to do, but I—'

‘Let's not worry about her,' Kazlana cut in. ‘Why don't we just relax and enjoy the day?'

Riley felt concerned about Charlotte—she'd seemed a little out of sorts at breakfast—but had to agree with Kazlana's sentiment. ‘What are you flying?' he asked.

‘A Cessna 182.'

‘Hmm…Nice little buggy.'

‘You know the plane?'

‘I learnt to fly in a Cessna after I finished university.'

At the airstrip he helped her ready the Cessna for take-off. Inside the cockpit, she reached over him to check his seatbelt. He was very conscious of the heady combination of perfume and tobacco that came off her skin. It was almost irresistible.

‘Would you like to take the controls?' she asked. ‘They say you never forget your first one.'

‘So I've heard,' he said, smiling at her
double entendre
. ‘But I'm not current. I didn't bother keeping up my hours. Thanks anyway.'

‘Okay. I'll take her up, then you can try your hand. Are you ready?'

‘Ready.'

Kazlana flew north, before climbing to the east out of the valley and circling Mount Kenya. They continued to the north until she told him they were over Rumuruti and the Laikipia Plateau. From his research Riley knew Laikipia was the northern extent of the Maasai's traditional territory—the homeland that was taken from them by the British in 1911. Even from a thousand metres he could see it would be prime grazing land.

They flew back to the national park and Kazlana circumnavigated the lake several times, intently studying the terrain below.

‘Have you lost someone?' he asked, reminding her of the previous day when he'd been the person lost.

She smiled. ‘No, just interested in that house down there. It's almost in the national park.'

After another circuit during which she again studied the farmhouse below, Kazlana levelled out and offered Riley the controls. He hesitated a moment and then grinned.

The Cessna was a joy to fly and his experiences flying in the cattle country of west Queensland came vividly back to him. It was a job he'd taken to build his capital so he could take time off to write. Life had seemed so simple back then. He would rent a shack out the back of Surfers Paradise, do a little surfing in the morning and write into the wee small hours. But then he met Melissa—a life-changing event.

He touched the right rudder and it responded immediately, dipping a wing and easing them off to the west over the Mau Escarpment. The Cessna ploughed into an air pocket as they turned back over the Great Rift Valley and the brief sense of weightlessness took his breath away.

Kazlana must have shared his exhilaration. She reached to where his hand rested on his thigh, laid her hand over his, then patted it. The gesture might have been intended as platonic, but, as had happened on the night they'd met at the Australian High Commission, the simple touch sent a ripple of pleasure through him. He turned towards her. She was smiling, but her eyes, hidden behind her silvered sunglasses, were unreadable.

‘We're running short of fuel,' she said, breaking the tension. ‘I'd better take us back to the strip.'

She took the controls from him and banked sharply before nosing the aircraft into a glide towards the lake.